Persuaded
by Schmo and Sushi
Summary: Aravis, in a moment of homesickness, is reminded just why she's decided to stay in Archenland. One-shot. Cor/Aravis fluff.


_A/N: Wow, I live! Anyway, because I left the handwritten copy of "Taming the Tide"'s chapter 39 in my locker this weekend, here's a one-shot to make up for it. I wrote this for LiveJournal user athousandwinds for the Narnia Fic Exchange over the summer. Her prompt was: "_Cor/Aravis, especially something that focuses on Aravis's culture shock (and Shasta's, come to think of it)._" I haven't heard from her yet, but hopefully you'll like it! :)_

_Cross-posted on LiveJournal._

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Aravis had never before seen a sky bluer than the one that arced above her head. The bright yellow sun, set neatly in the east, bore a dramatic contrast to the softness of its backdrop; the few clouds that did manage to drift overhead were clumped together and purely white, as though the entire heavens were trying to be as brilliant as possible.

Her maids sat nearby, shading their eyes, but Aravis ignored them and soaked in the warmth, her head back and her arms spread wide. It was July, _Yangin Ayi_—or, Month of Fire. At least, it had been in Calormen. Here, in Archenland, even what they considered the hottest month of the year felt as hot to Aravis as winter did. The Archenlandian girls that waited on her complained of headaches and heatstroke, but to Aravis, it was like stepping out of an oven into a cool, bubbling pool of soft spring water.

Everything about Archenland was different from Calormen. In Tashbaan, one might look up at the sun and see but a distant haze in the grayish sky. But in Anvard, far from the murky, blowing yellow sands of the desert, the sun was a distinct entity, making a loud entrance each morning and blazing forth in all its glory until it set in the west each night.

Not all differences were quite so welcome, however. Because the Archenlandian climate was so much cooler and wetter than that of Calormen's, their clothes were proportionately heavier and constricting. Now that she was considered of marriageable age by Archenlandian standards (a much more reasonable age, it was—seventeen, instead of the Calormene twelve), Aravis was obliged to wear a very silly handkerchief atop her head and thick leather boots to save her hair and feet from the rain and mud that frequented the area. No more loose locks and soft palace slippers.

"Oy, there! Aravis!"

At the sound of Prince Corin's voice, Aravis was rather unpleasantly reminded of the difference in dialect between their respective countries. In the Tisroc's (may he live—oh, tosh) palace, she would never have been referred to in such a manner.

But she turned nevertheless to see Prince Corin marching across the meadow towards her, Prince Cor in tow. "Oh, what is it _now_, Your Majesties?" Aravis asked irritably. She was just starting to enjoy herself.

Corin didn't seem to hear her chagrin. "Me and Cor was just arguing," he said, breathless from the trek.

"What a shock," Aravis muttered.

Cor looked resignedly up at the sky.

She sighed. "All _right_. What about, Prince Corin?"

"About Calormen."

This, regrettably, caught Aravis' attention. "Would you like me to resolve the issue, then?" she asked.

"Indeed, we would," Cor burst out. "Corin here is under the impression that Calormenes eat their _children_. Please tell him they don't."

"They don't, Prince Corin."

Corin looked skeptically at her. "But how does one know for certain?"

"If they did, would I be alive?"

He opened his mouth to speak, made a strangled sound, and closed it again, brow furrowed in thought.

She raised her eyebrows politely. "Aye?"

"Hold on a moment," he muttered. "I'm thinking."

At last, the realization that he'd been had dawned on him, and he scowled.

"There, Your Majesty," Aravis said lightly over Cor's sniggering. "You see? Calormenes aren't as barbaric as storybooks make them out to be."

Corin's jaw jutted out, and he looked ready to knock someone over. "Well, I'm sure that _some_ of the stories are true."

"Oh, I'm convinced," Aravis said. "For instance, on the first moonlit night of the new year, the head of the family finds the fattest rat in the house and kills it. Every member of the family must eat of it, or suffer ill luck."

Corin stared. "And have you…"

"Oh, aye," Aravis whispered. "I have eaten the tail…of a rat."

He gave her a dismayed look, spun on his heel, and hurried back to the city, doubtless to ask Lune if it really was safe to have a Calormene live within the palace walls.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Cor burst into laughter. Hearing him, even Aravis had to smile, and she generously allowed her horror-stricken ladies-in-waiting to follow him back, clutching at their embroidery and whispering about rats.

"Have you really eaten a rat's tail, then?" Cor asked, rubbing his sleeve across his mirth-reddened face.

"Hardly," she answered loftily. "I made the whole thing up."

"Bloody clever. I daresay he'll be worrying that for weeks."

She sat down in the grass, pleased with herself. "You must admit, though, he is a rather easy target."

"Perhaps," Cor answered, sitting down beside her. "But I can never manage to fool him for very long. You, on the other hand, can keep him going for months. I've never understood how you do it."

She tossed her hair teasingly. "It requires a woman's touch, I suppose."

"It must take an especially remarkable woman, then," he said easily.

Aravis looked at Cor out of the corner of her eye, a funny buzzing sensation settling into the pit of her stomach. How was that meant to be taken? He'd been saying a good many arcane things of late, and it was driving her to absolute distraction. Did he or didn't he? One moment, she felt sure he was madly in love with her, and the next, hesitant that he even remembered her name.

She heaved a sigh.

"Is something troubling you?" Cor asked, looking at her.

"No, nothing," she lied. "I'm just admiring the view."

He nodded and gazed at the rolling meadows that stretched out before them. "Aye. It is lovely, isn't it?"

"Indeed."

A silence fell. Aravis picked a few blades of grass from the earth and flicked them away, then looked carefully at her nails, then tried to smooth the many wrinkles from her skirt, then flexed her toes inside her boots.

Finally, Cor took a deep breath and turned to face her. "D'you miss Calormen, Aravis?" he asked earnestly.

She looked at him askance, trying to judge his expression and adjust her reply accordingly. But he just looked keenly into her face, his eyes flicking between hers. "Well," she said at last, stirring to turn her whole body towards him, "I don't think there's any straight answer to that. What do you wish me to say?"

"I don't wish you to say anything in particular," he said with a sigh. "Besides the truth, that is."

"The truth?"

"Aye."

Aravis wrinkled her nose and looked down at her crossed legs. "Well…the truth is, I suppose that aye, I do rather miss Calormen. But only because of my family," she hastened to add as Cor frowned and opened his mouth. "I yearn to see my father, from time to time."

"Quite understandable."

Blast. He looked hurt. Clearing her throat, she said, a bit louder than was normal, "You know, Cor, if it weren't for you, I'd pack my things and go right back home."

Cor squinted against the sun and looked over at her. "Weren't for me, eh?"

She nibbled on the edge of her finger, too bashful to meet his gaze. "Aye. You're the only…the only familiar thing, sometimes."

He reached up and pulled her finger away from her mouth. "What are you trying to say, Aravis?"

"I'll tell you if you stop smirking at me in that impudent manner," she retorted smartly, her hand trembling in his gentle grasp. "And let go of me."

Cor masked his teasing smile, though it didn't disappear entirely from his twinkling eyes, and then lightly released her wrist. "Fill me in, then."

"You're still laughing," Aravis muttered, tucking her hand under her other arm.

"Don't you _want_ to tell me?"

"I don't think you'll like it all that much."

The color drained almost humorously from his face. "You're not—not really going back to _Calormen_, are you?" he asked in a tense voice.

"What?" Aravis let out a surprised laugh. "No! I wouldn't dream of it, Cor! Not unless you went with me."

It was when she saw his eyebrows go up that she realized what she'd said. "I—I mean," she stammered.

He was starting to grin. "I think I'm beginning to understand you, Aravis."

"Oh, hardly!" she scoffed, her cheeks burning.

But Cor caught her hand as she tried to turn away. The thought briefly crossed her mind to fend him off and maybe even stomp on his toes, but as quickly as the idea appeared, it vanished again: he was drawing her close, bending towards her, his shoulders bowing and other arm slipping hesitantly around her waist. She knew what this was. She had seen her eldest brother standing in shadowy corners with pretty serving maids, and her father's rough-hewn shepherds kneeling in the fields beside their giggling shepherdesses. But it had never happened to her—thus far.

Aravis took a quick, shallow breath, blinked once, and then found Cor's lips atop hers. Watching the shepherds, she had assumed the business of kissing to be a sloppy, sticky affair in which arms and legs went in every direction; but Cor held her securely in one place, the tip of his nose brushing the side of hers. It was hardly sloppy at all—rather, almost timid.

And yet, her hands were trembling.

"Cor?" she said after what seemed like ages.

His eyelashes looked much longer from this proximity. "Hm?"

"You do know I could go to your father about this, don't you?"

Cor laughed good-naturedly and drew away. "I know you could. But you're not going to."

"I ought to," she muttered, holding a hand against her blazing cheek.

His arm was still around her. "You know what, Aravis?"

"What, Cor?"

"I hope you stay in Archenland. With me."

Aravis didn't answer right away, but she leaned against his shoulder. "We'll see," she said at last, and smiled.


End file.
